Weee~ell, what I was going to do was take Scourge as my caste, then kinda take Khorne as my favored, so I could be awesome and silent and run around and make people explode like nuclear bombs and create a demon city made out of razor wind and screams that keeps on movin'. And stuff.

Giddy up and goWe'll go so far as we pleaseGiddy up and gold mineDifferent place, different﻿ timeAll the stars are in their primePastel trailer park, stars so bright to hide the darkAll is quiet in the yard

Do you still rememberDecember's foggy freeze when the ice thatclings on to your beard isscreaming agony.And you snatch your rattling last breathswith deep-sea-diver sounds,and the flowers bloom likemadness in the spring.

Lightning cracked in the sky of this desolate wasteland, yet despite the thunderclouds, which painted the sky the colour of a bruise, there was no relief for this parched land. The ruins of a dead city, smothered in dust the colour of blood, was revealed in each flash of light. And in those brief moment of light, things could be seen moving, things that moved in a way which was anathema to the human eye, all squirming and crawling and too many legs.

Some would have called this place Hell.

Fools. The depths of the horrors imagined by Dante could not match the abominations that dwelt in this place.

A self-contained world five miles long, located in neutral territory. A place of commerce and diplomacy for a quarter of a million humans and aliens. A shining beacon in space, all alone in the night. This is the story of the last of the Babylon stations.

- Stop this! What are you doing here!? What do you want!?- We seek only to help you.- To do what?- To win the war.- Really? Which war?- I do not understand.- This war, against the Nazis, or your war, the war against the rest of the Universe?

"It was a sharp axe," she said. "Who says there's no mercy in the world? Just don't nod, that's all. And someone'll take you down to a nice cold coffin and I daresay fifty years'll just fly past and maybe you'll wake with enough sense to be stupid."

Some days are special. Some days are so, so blessed. Some days, nobody dies at all. Now and then, every once in a very long while, every day in a million days, when the wind stands fair and the Doctor comes to call, everybody lives.